


dead to you, death to me

by thir13enth



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: F/M, pretty angsty, written for right after the jason reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23832931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thir13enth/pseuds/thir13enth
Summary: Michael's hardest days are yet to come.
Relationships: Michael Cordero Jr./Jane Villanueva
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	dead to you, death to me

**Author's Note:**

> this was written like at least a year ago, but for some reason I never actually moved forward to publish it so… I think this was written after the Michael is back (but as Jason) reveal? It doesn’t align with what happened, but I had headcanons for when that episode first came out and thought it would make for a good cordueva angst fic

Michael had always thought the hardest day he’d ever experience in his life was the day that Jane said no to his ring.

It was the same day jealousy transfigured him into a monster not even her kind, gentle, and unconditional love could forgive.

But he was wrong.

The hardest day in his life was yet to come when he next saw her — again but also for the first time — four years after she’d already grieved his dead body and locked away her memories of him into a safe.

On this day, he could not love her the way he once did.

The way he still does.

“Michael?” Her voice is all at once confused, surprised, and hurt. Her voice sounds like a wound roughly unbandaged, forcibly reopened.

He watches her crumple to the floor. Eyes wide, hands over her mouth, fallen to her knees.

“Actually...” he starts slowly. “I go by Jason now.” He hopes she doesn’t hear the uncertainty at the end of his voice. “Ma’am... Jane, right? It’s amnesia,” he explains. “Like... no memory.”

It hurts him to tell her the lie like it’s the truth.

Karma, he guesses — for him to hurt her the last time he lied to her, there is great irony for him to hurt himself as he lies to her this time.

She looks at him with tears in her eyes. “You have no memory?” she asks, voice thready.

“No, ma’am,” he forces. Then he corrects, on purpose. “Jane.”

He watches her body curl into a ball. He watches Rafael kneel to take her into an embrace and shield her with his body. He watches her sob into Rafael’s shoulder, and he watches Rafael whisper reassurances in her ear.

He doesn’t hear her crying. He doesn’t hear him comfort her.

All he hears is silence, and all he can do is look pitifully at her, like she’s a complete stranger.

He has to pretend — otherwise Rose would not be happy. Rose would kill Rafael, and then Jane would lose all over again.

Just like she did before. Just like she is now, again.

...

It gets harder.

She invites him to her home. He feels his chest tearing apart as he steps up the front porch, sees the swinging bench with its well-worn seats. He raises his fist to knock on the door, but the door opens just as he throws his knuckles forward.

He breathes in, smelling the familiar aroma of her home. Jane greets him with dry but tear-rimmed eyes. She introduces him to her mother and his grandmother and her father, and she walks him around the house through all these rooms, all these corners he knows better than the back of his own hand.

Nothing has changed, yet nothing is the same.

But Jason says nothing. Jason doesn’t know any of this. And he _is_ Jason.

After a tour of her home, they collect their thoughts on the couch. She sits next to him — _so achingly close_ he can feel the warmth that radiates off her skin. She passes him her laptop to show him a folder full of old memories they had together. Pictures and videos.

He almost breaks when he sees how neatly organized and color-coded her files in the computer area. Of course, Jane would chronologically order all of these. Of course, the name of the files would actually adequately describe the content of the images and the video clips.

He glances over them, his eyes glazing over the sans-serif font amidst with hot tears. He blinks these away as soon as he feels them hang on his lower eyelid. She nervously laughs and suggests one of her favorite memories, clicking on the file and waiting for it to load and play.

He sees his past self, happy — a place he’ll never be again. His past self laughs and teases Jane, and Jane laughs and teases his past self back.

If he focuses his eyes enough, he could pretend he’s experiencing it all over again, living in that past life as himself. He can ignore the silver frame of her laptop and lose himself in the pixels. But he has to be careful he doesn’t lose that slow drawl in his voice or forget who he isn’t.

“Jason,” he reminds himself in a mutter, louder than he means to.

“Hm?” she asks him, turning her head up at him. There’s a glassy gaze over her eyes, and he hates that he has to ignore it.

“This Michael guy is pretty funny, isn’t he?” he quickly says instead.

...

At the very least, she lets him pick his own name, his own past.

That’s how Rose justifies her actions. He should appreciate her benevolence. She could have chosen any kind of history, any kind of an identity for him. Instead, she is nice enough to let him have one that he forges himself.

Easier to remember, she reminds him. Easier to keep straight.

So, he chose to be the exact opposite of who he was, who he still _is_. Loving Jane is who Michael is. Without loving Jane, there is no Michael. He became everything he wasn’t, everything he isn’t.

He cannot have a single drop of Michael in him, because he knows every drop of Michael loves Jane, and he could not love her for her own sake.

Sometimes he wonders whether Rafael suspects it. Of all the times in his life he wanted Rafael to know how much he loves Jane, _this_ is the time he wants Rafael to know it the most. He trusts that Rafael will eventually catch onto Rose’s tricks. He _hopes_ that Rafael knows exactly what is going on already and that Rafael has a plan to sort it all out.

The hope keeps him sane. The waiting does not.

Yet wait, he will, to keep Jane happy.

And wait, he will, forever — even it hurts him so much he’d rather be dead.

What difference does it make if he is already dead to her anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> kinda miss jane the virgin, not gonna lie
> 
> find me on [tumblr](https://jtvdrabbles.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/napsbeforesleep)


End file.
